The Supernatural Playlist
by ToTheBlueberry
Summary: A collection of music-related one-shots, mostly music from the show i.e. 80s/classic rock, but I use most styles of music. Pretty much covers every genre, i.e. humor/romance/action/tragedy/brotherly bonding. Most characters will make an appearance. Rated T/M for blood and future content. No planned pairings, but that may change. . .
1. Jody's Got a Gun

**Short little drabble- emphasis on short. Taking requests on songs you want me to write about, preferably 80s/classic rock, but I'll take anything.**

 **Song: Janie's Got a Gun**

 **Artist: Aerosmith**

The old barn, which had been swarming with werewolves earlier that afternoon, was now dead quiet. The term "dead quiet" being literal in this case, as the lycanthropes were all. . .well. . . _dead_.

"Thanks for all your help, Jody. We really couldn't have got em without you." The tip on the nest location- and the cover fire she provided - only amplified the seasoned hunters' respect for the sheriff.

"Anything for my boys. Except for clean-up duty. I'll let you deal with that." Jody smirked.

"We already have a guy on his way. Hey, call us if there's anything else we can help deal with." Sam offered.

"Well, hopefully you won't be hearing from me anytime soon." Jody joked, flicking what looked suspiciously like strawberry jam (but almost definitely wasn't) off her sleeve. She hated to see them leave so soon, but she knew they probably had more important apocalyptic stuff to deal with right now. Bigger fish to fry. Despite their insistence and eagerness to help, the shadows under their eyes told a different story.

For now, it was time for them to head back to the bunker. They wanted to check in with Cas, look for any new cases. And find the embodiment of Darkness, of course.

Jody called behind them. "Actually, there is one thing."

Sam turned with a sort of amused look on his face, which the Sheriff returned with her own sheepish facade.

"Can I keep the gun?" She asked simply, gesturing to the silver-loaded gun in her holster that Sam had given her earlier.

Sam shared a look with Dean, who shrugged.

"Don't see why not."

"Thanks." She wondered why she had ever even picked up a Glock. This gun, just a simple Smith & Wesson 5906, seemed perfect. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the werewolf encounter, but she felt like that was the most accurate she had been with a gun in a while.

The crunch of gravel accompanied them down the road as Jody Mills gradually disappeared from sight. They were on the road- again.

A few minutes and several miles later, Sam heard a noise he rarely had the opportunity to hear. Chuckling. Sincere chuckling. Almost _giggling_. Which was slightly concerning.

"What?" Sam asked warily.

"Dude," Dean spoke through his mirth, "Jody's got a gun."

 **So? What'd you think? Leave a review... or don't, that's cool too.**


	2. No Time for Regrets

**Happy Holidays! This is my attempt at helping you cope with not getting a new episode until Jan. 20.**

 **Oh, you're gonna hate me for this one and I know it. Haha, I don't care, go spam me with hate mail.**

 **This is the scene a bit before Dean is killed by Metatron, when he knocks out Sam so he can kill Meta alone. Yeah, I know, I'm heartless.** **I blame Cas for forgetting my soul.**

 **Song: Here I Go Again**

 **Artist: Whitesnake**

 _It's settled, then._ Dean thought as he turned the corner to see the hobo camp appear around the corner.

Dean knew what he had to do. He didn't want to, but it was better than the alternative. His job had always been to protect Sam. Always. And he couldn't do that if Sam was anywhere near him right now.

This was a solo gank job.

Of course, Dean also knew that Sam would never let him go alone. But he came up with a plan for that, too. No distractions. He wanted, _needed_ revenge on Metatron. He had hurt Cas. And killed countless other angels, but still. _He. Hurt. Cas._ And Dean wasn't about to let him get away with that.

So. Get Sam out of the way- incapacitate him, somehow- then follow the trail of adoring homeless people until he found the featherbrain named Metatron.

He was still trying to find a different way to get Sam out of the equation. He didn't want to, but he didn't see any other way. Dean knew he was already unpredictable, a loose cannon, and Sam wouldn't let him go anywhere alone.

So really, this whole "plan" wasn't just so he could kill Metatron- it was to protect Sam. That was always the reason.

There was another reason, though. Not nearly as noble.

He knew it wouldn't be pretty with the Mark. It would be bloody- and he was fine with that. He _wanted_ that. But he didn't want Sam to see him like that. He didn't want Sam to see him so weak, so under the control of the Mark. So helpless.

As strong as the Mark made him physically, it made him weaker mentally. He had faked some semblance of control over the Mark, but the truth was, he let _it_ control _him_. He wasn't strong enough to fight the need it gave to kill.

He slammed the door closed. They decided to ditch the car: from here on out, they were on foot.

His thoughts were interrupted when Sam spoke. "We're doing this together, Dean," he clarified.

He said it as if there were no discussion in the matter- Dean was too unstable. And Sam didn't really trust him, nor did he think he should.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean made up his mind.

"Sorry? Dean, what?- _oomf_." Sam grunted as Dean cracked his fist against his jaw, sending his vision into sudden darkness.

Dean looked down at the crumpled form on the ground. He felt guilty for the tiny bit of relief the act had given him- the Mark relieving the tiniest bit of pressure from his mind.

"Trust me, Sam, that hurt me more than it did you." Dean spoke under his breath. He was really on his own now, he thought, as he walked down the road to the hobo camp.

He was surprised to hear himself humming a song along the way. It took him a while to remember the words, but when he did he wished he hadn't.

Some things are better left unsaid.

"Here I go again."

That was his final battle cry.

 _I don't know where I'm goin'_

 _But I sure know where I've been_

 _Hanging on the promises in songs of yesterday_

 _An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time_

 _Here I go again, here I go again_

 _. . ._

 _Here I go again on my own_

 _Goin' down the only road I've ever known_

 _Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_

 _An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time_

 **Some of the lyrics I took inspiration from above. Yeah, I know this isn't exactly how it went in the episode, but I couldn't find the video so I kinda just guessed what happened.**


	3. Car Radio

**This is a two-in-one (sort of). Consider it my Christmas gift to you.**

 **Oh and let me know/like if you understand the reference in the title :)**

 **Song: Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be**

 **Artist: AC/DC**

 **Kansas, Highway 36, 3:00 A.M.**

The car ride was relatively quiet. They were both tired. The vampire stake-out had taken longer than expected, what with the discovery of two rival nests in the same town. They spent almost a week running around hunting stragglers.

And now Dean, as designated driver, had been driving all night. He was almost tempted to let Sammy take the wheel- almost.

The sky was already beginning to darken to signal the coming dawn. They were on the road back to the bunker, and neither had felt like stopping at some sleazy motel: they just wanted to get home. Sam was sleeping next to him, snoring with his head on the window. They were on the highway, just a few more hours from home.

But now, they were in the middle of nowhere. A few barns were straggled here and there along the road, and a truck stop with a little fruit stand off to the side. The grass on the side of the road was buffeted by the Impala. They were the only car on the road. Dean gunned it, pushing Baby to 60, 70, 80 miles an hour. He had the urge to open the window, but thought against it.

Slowing down, he saw Sam waking up out of the corner of his eye, yawning as he tried to stretch his moose-self in the tight space. It was too early for talking, too early for anything, really, so they just sat in silence.

They were long since used to long, boring road trips through the state, but Sam needed something to distract him. He needed sound to help him relax: he didn't want to think about everything right now, not until the sleep was cleared from his mind.

He flipped on the radio. He didn't recognize the song that came on, but it was definitely AC/DC: there was no mistaking the voice. Probably one of their lesser known songs. He tried focusing on the lyrics.

 _Puts me down_

 _Fool me around_

 _Why she do it to me_

Didn't sound familiar. Dean hadn't heard it either, judging from the look on his face.

 _Out for satisfaction_

 _Any piece of action_

 _That ain't the way it should be_

He had to strain to hear the rest, with the speakers being so low and the voice being so. . . _not._

 _She needs lovin'_

 _Knows I'm the man_

 _She' gotta see_

 _Pours my beer_

 _Licks my ear_

 _Brings out the devil in me_

 _Hell ain't a bad place to be_

A second passed as they both tried to process what they just heard. Dean flicked off the radio with a look of feigned indifference. The car became dead silent.

"Where's James Hetfield when you need 'im?"

Dean changed the station. Then wished he hadn't, when Heat of the Moment came out of the speakers. He hurriedly flipped off the radio with surprise evident on his face. After that week that seemed forever ago, Sam told him what happened, and recounted some of the top 10 ways Gabriel had killed him. And Dean had a pretty good imagination, so he really didn't like to be reminded of how he got a piano dropped on him like a cartoon character, or how he was attacked by a rabid dog, or how he slipped and died in the shower, or how he got food poisoning from tacos, or how- well, you get the gist.

Sam almost looked behind him to see if the Trickster was sitting smugly in the back seat, before remembering that he was dead.

A few seconds of silence elapsed. "You ever hear of Pandora?"

"The box? Why? Is there a case? Fill me in."

"No, not the box, Dean. The radio station. We should try it out."

 **So I'm kinda noticing that these aren't really song one-shots as much as they are one-shots inspired by music. Oh, well.**


	4. American BeautyAmerican Psycho

**This has been floating around in my head and I finally decided to put it down. Sorry for not updating in forever :/**

 **This is supposed to be set in one of the earlier seasons, when Sam and Dean aren't quite as experienced.**

 **Song: American Beauty/American Psycho**

 **Artist: Fallout Boy**

She assumed they were together. The huge man with long-ish hair, and the smaller one with green eyes.

Then Green-Eyes started hitting on her. Winking, smirking, staring slightly, the whole 9 yards. She scoffed, but still smiled enough to not discourage more flirting.

She was slightly disappointed when he turned around to see the exchange going on between his friend and the bartender.

She couldn't quite make anything out from her seat, but she was fairly adept at reading body language. The other one with the long-ish hair was speaking, awkwardly trying to start a conversation with the man. The bartender didn't seem too interested in the conversation until the other man seemed to say something that caught his attention. He put down the glass he was polishing and straightened, narrowing his eyes.

The man said something, trying to smooth the situation, but the bartender didn't care. He menacingly popped his neck, flexing and unflexing his meaty hands into fists.

 _Looks like a bar fight,_ she thought, trying to gauge if she should leave.

Green-Eyes slid his hand in his jacket, as if he were grabbing something. She caught a glimpse of something metallic. Her eyes widened in realization, but it was too late for her to do anything.

The entire bar erupted into chaos.

The 4 patrons in the bar jumped up from their seats, going after the two men. Green-Eyes whipped around and the thing he had been holding in his jacket came into view as it arced over his head and came down on the patron's.

A machete.

A friggin' machete.

The other one had a similar weapon, and he was fighting off the bartender that had leapt over the counter.

The situation caught up with her as one of the patron's severed heads rolled to her feet. It had teeth, or _something_ , bared into an evil snarl. They looked like a bunch of evilly whittled bones that had been stuck in his mouth,

She screamed, clamping her hand over her mouth as she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Green-Eyes turned in her direction, and she didn't know what terrified her more. He had a _look_ in his eyes, an insane look only amplified by the blood that flecked the side of his face. She took a step back.

It was gone in a second, the crazed, wild-eyed gleam. She shrieked again as he advanced menacingly towards her, and she threw her hands over her head in a defensive stance.

He didn't seem too cute now.

She looked up in surprise when he walked past her, and turned just in time to see him send his machete flying through the air, gracefully knocking someone's head off of their shoulders. The body fell with a thud.

The bar was dead silent now. All of the patrons had been beheaded. The longer-haired one stood in the far corner surrounded by two bodies, panting with effort after the struggle they had both put up.

She still stood in horror, stunned and paralyzed and too scared to turn around and face Green-Eyes, who crouched behind her wiping his blade on the dead man's jeans.

He moved to stand in front of her, studying her face with a mild look of concern. She realized that he was talking to her.

"-okay?"

He looked so- _normal_. Of course, the blood on his face didn't help, but still. That terrified her, that this insane man who just beheaded 3 people would be someone she ever so briefly considered dating.

At least, with the other "toothy" patrons, you could actually _see_ they were crazy. With this man that stood in front of her, the crazy was hidden.

You might not even be able to tell it was there.

 _Lyrics:_

 _She's an American beauty_  
 _I'm an American psycho_  
 _She's an American beauty_  
 _I'm an American, I'm an American_  
 _American Psycho_  
 _I'm an American, I'm an American_  
 _I'm, I'm, I'm an American psycho_

 _I think I fell in love again_  
 _Maybe I just took too much cough medicine_  
 _I'm the best worst thing that hasn't happened to you yet_  
 _The best worst thing_  
 _You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out_  
 _You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out_  
 _And you can kill me, kill me or let God sort 'em out_

 **So I originally wrote this from the brothers' perspective, but I changed it to a bystander for fun.**

 **Kind of a strange ending there, but anyway. . . Hope you liked. Also, I highly suggest you look up the song, it's by far one of my favorites.**


	5. Long, Long Way From Home

**In which Castiel remembers Heaven before he was a fallen angel. I put most of the lyrics on here for you guys ;)**

 **Song: Long, Long Way From Home**

 **Artist: Foreigner**

Castiel was never one to be nostalgic. As an angel, he had most of those emotions whittled out of him.

But now, as a human, as he watched the dusky sky streak with deep purple and red, Cas felt nostalgic. He didn't even particularly know why. His brothers and sisters had disowned him- there was nothing else for him in Heaven.

So why was he nostalgic?

Maybe it wasn't nostalgia for family- he had, in fact, already found a suitable replacement for that with the Winchesters. Maybe it was simply nostalgia for the good old days. Nostalgia for the past, and the simplicity it offered.

That was probably it. Nostalgia for a time when things weren't so _complicated_ , when he wouldn't even consider working with demons, much less the king of Hell himself. Nostalgia for a time when he didn't have to worry about betrayal and mind-control committed by his own brethren.

Nostalgia for a time when God still _cared_.

These thoughts wormed their way through his head as he absently picked at the grass near his feet.

He sat cross-legged under that tree until the last streaks of color faded from the sky. He sat there, even, long after the color faded from the sky and it was lit only with stars. He heard the crickets chirping along the grassy hill slope, and for a moment he lost himself in the _simplicity_ of the moment. Just him and the starry Heavens, so, so far away, his home for a millennia that he might never be able to see again.

"Cas?" He heard a voice behind him and temporarily tore his gaze from the sky to see who spoke.

"Hello, Dean." He turned back, still staring at the sky as if waiting to see a glimpse of the Heaven he had, for so long, called his home.

"We've been looking for you, man. What are you doing out here?" Dean walked forward, sitting next to Cas in the soft grass. Their voices sounded loud against the ambience of the crickets.

"Just thinking." Cas replied simply.

"Oh." Dean joined him in gazing at the Heavens. He didn't miss the wistful longing in Cas' sky-blue eyes, the way he smiled sadly at the place he was thrown out of.

They sat there for hours, not talking, simply admiring the vastness of the Heavens. Long after the moon hung low in the sky, before the hint of dawn was thrown across the horizon, Dean finally stood.

"C'mon, Cas," he offered his hand to help the fallen angel up.

"Let's go home."

Cas took his hand, and together they went.

 _ **LYRICS**_ _:_

 _It was my destiny_

 _It's what we needed to do_

 _They were telling me_

 _I'm telling you_

 _I was inside looking outside_

 _The millions of faces_

 _But still I'm alone_

 _Waiting, hours of waiting_

 _Paying a penance_

 _I was longing for home_

 _I'm looking out for the two of us_

 _I hope we'll be here when they're through with us_

 _I was inside looking outside_

 _Oh the millions of faces_

 _But still I'm alone_

 _Waiting, hours of waiting_

 _I could feel the tension_

 _I was longing for home_

 _I'm looking out for the two of us_

 _And I hope we'll be here when they're through with us_

 _I'm a long way from home_

 _Monday, sad, sad Monday_

 _She's waiting for me_

 _But I'm a long, long way from home_

 _Sad, sad Monday_

 _She's waiting for me_

 _But I'm a long, long way from home_

 _Sad, sad Monday_

 _Oh she's waiting for me_

 _But I'm a long, long way from home_


	6. Kung Fu Fighting

**In which Sam and Dean run into difficulties with some ghosts.**

 **Song: Kung Fu Fighting**

 **Artist: Carl Douglas**

The ghost was moving surprisingly fast.

For a ghost.

He gave it that much.

Sam's train of thought was cut off when it punched him in the neck, also temporarily cutting off his breath. He collapsed to the ground, hand to his throat as he rolled to avoid the ninja ghost's wrath.

"Dean! Shotgun!" He managed to choke out.

Dean nodded, kicking over the shotgun that he had to drop for close range combat. Sam grabbed it, shooting the ninja ghost and 2 others.

Dean was fighting off a similar ninja ghost, brandishing a crowbar in its face. It kept jumping back and evading his swings. He finally managed to get a good swipe at it, and it disappeared in a flurry of embers and ash.

"You know, for the dead, these guys are pretty spry," Dean joked as he made a ring of salt around both of them.

Sam huffed out a laugh, taking up the shotgun to shoot down a stray ghost. It disappeared before he was able to shoot. The shotgun pellets sprayed against the wall of the haunted boxing ring, peppering it with holes.

"Seriously though, why are they so quick?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Won't matter in a few minutes. Soon as-"

Dean stopped mid-sentence as one of the ghosts appeared on the other side of the salt line.

It wasn't the ghost that surprised him, though.

It was what he was doing.

It beckoned to Dean, hands up in a boxing stance as it moved to stand in the ring. It was bouncing around on the balls of its feet, seeming to want a hand-to-hand fight.

"Dean?"

"What is it doing?" Dean leaned back with a funny look on his face, eyeing the bizarre behavior of the ghost in front of him through the ropes of the ring.

"I don't know, Dean. Just go with it." Sam was equally confused, watching as a crowd of 10 or so ghosts materialized and surrounded the ring.. They seemed to be cheering on a boxing match- none of them were advancing.

Dean, knowing that he had to buy Sam enough time to salt and burn the remains, cautiously stepped into the ring. He imitated the ghost's behavior, bouncing up and down with his fists up as he hopped from side to side. He was surprised when the ghost quickly lashed out, but he managed to evade just enough for the ghost's fist to barely clip his ear.

After that, there were no holds barred.

Dean Winchester and the ninja ghost exchanged blows. Surprisingly, although it was altogether possible, the boxer ghost didn't dematerialize every time Dean got in a good swing. He seemed to want to play fair.

Sam might have found it entertaining to watch, if he a) wasn't so weirded out by it, and b) didn't have old bones to burn.

Sam fumbled for the ghosts' remains that he wrapped up in a leather sleeve. There were a few mementos amongst the yellowed bones, little things that the ninja-ghosts owned when they were alive that were important to them. Little things that they were connected to, that held parts of their souls. He spread them out on the ground, dousing them with gasoline and salt.

The match was lighting agonizingly slow, and he had to keep relighting it. It finally lit, and with a flourish he dropped it on the pile.

He heard a grunt as Dean was viciously kicked out of the ring by the ghost. He landed on a metal folding chair and both Dean and the chair fell over in a tangled mess. Then, as the pile of remains burst into flames, Sam watched as the ghosts started to fizzle out one by one. There was a fizzing sound emanating from all over the room as flames spread across the spirits, leaving nothing but a trace of ash and embers in their wake.

As the last ninja-ghost incinerated, the room was left with an old musty smell, mingling with sweat and smoke from the fire.

Sam walked over to his brother, who was still sitting on the ground where he got knocked down. He had to bite down a teasing smirk as he helped Dean to his feet.

"That was weird-" Dean started.

"Dude," Sam laughed.

"Sam, don't-"

"You just got your ass handed to you by a 50 year old ghost."

"Shut up-"

"How does it feel, Dean?" Sam joked as they walked out of the old boxing ring.

"Not very good," Dean grimaced, holding his back where he had been kicked into the metal chair.

"Are you gonna be good to drive?"

"Sammy, I swear," Dean punched his arm playfully.

 **Ok so I realize that boxing isn't in any way similar to kung fu fighting, but I had an idea and I went with it, so. . .**

 _LYRICS:_

 _Oh-hoh-hoh-hoah (x4)_

 _[Chorus:]_

 _Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting_

 _Those kids were fast as lightning_

 _In fact, it was a little bit frightening_

 _But they fought with expert timing_

 _There were funky China men from funky Chinatown_

 _They were chopping them up_

 _They were chopping them down_

 _It's an ancient Chinese art_

 _And everybody knew their part_

 _From a feinting, to a slip_

 _And a kickin' from the hip_

 _Everybody was Kung Fu fighting_

 _Those kids were fast as lightning_

 _In fact it was a little bit frightening_

 _But they fought with expert timing_

 _There was funky Billie Chin and little Sammy Chong_

 _He said, here comes the big boss, let's get it on_

 _We took the bow and made a stand_

 _Started swaying with the hand_

 _A sudden motion made me skip_

 _Now we're into a brand new trip_

 _Everybody was Kung Fu fighting_

 _Those kids were fast as lightning_

 _In fact it was a little bit frightening_

 _But they did it with expert timing_

 _Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh, ha (x3)_

 _Keep on, keep on, keep on_

 _Sure enough_

 _Everybody was Kung Fu fighting_

 _Those kids were fast as lightning_

 _In fact it was a little bit frightening_

 _Make sure you have expert timing_

 _Kung Fu fighting, had to be fast as lightning..._


End file.
